


Let's get you wasted and alone

by Pollarize



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 21:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15470199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollarize/pseuds/Pollarize
Summary: Dallon was doing whatever it took to get out of Skid Row.





	Let's get you wasted and alone

**Author's Note:**

> so based off of the song Skid Row from Little Shop of Horrors which Brendon and Dallon actually did a cover of. It's not necessary to watch the musical or anything to read.

Broom in hand, Dallon swept the floor. He used to make up songs while he worked or dances or act out a scene to keep it entertaining but he gave up years ago. He used to find the flower shop beautiful. He used to love the colors of the flowers that surrounded him from the floor to the ceiling, the vines that spiraled across the ceiling. He used to love the smell of freshly bloomed flowers, of dirt, but he didn’t anymore. 

 

At first it was home. A little orphan boy picked up off the street, promised a home in return for some help in the shop. It seemed like a fair trade but as he got older, the shop got worse. Business was always slow down in Skid Row. People avoided it like the plague. 

 

Even Dallon wanted out of Skid Row.

 

The streets were filthy, the people were just as filthy. 

 

He hated it. He hated his life. It was a miserable life but he had hope of getting out.    
  
For now, he wanted out of the shop. He hung up his apron, put the broom back into the closet.

 

“I’ve finished!” Dallon yelled, heading to the door. He was just a hair to tall to sneak out without getting seen.

 

“Dallon, you know better,” the shop keeper called from the back. Dallon swallowed, his shoulder slumping and his head dropping. “Your rent is due.”

 

Dallon wished he could get out but he’d been stuck in this place for far too long. He knew there was only one way to keep the shop keeper from getting angry with him. He’d do anything to keep him happy. If it meant that he didn’t have to pay for a room, too.

 

His feet dragged as he walked to the back, finding the shop keeper on a chair, tapping his foot impatiently. Dallon dropped to his knees in front of the man, unbuckling his belt and leaning forward.

 

It was as disgusting as the first time he’d done it and that was saying a lot. He’d been paying rent this way for far too long but it kept the shop keeper happy.

 

“Your mouth was made for this,” he always said, touching Dallon’s hair like he owned the boy. He pet his head like he was stilla  child. He wasn’t, not anymore. Maybe that was why the shop keeper always closed his eyes when Dallon paid his rent. Imagining him as the seventeen year old who was just naive enough to think it was okay. Pretending like the twenty year old on his knees, blowing him was still just a child. 

 

Dallon was ashamedly good at sucking dick. Even so, he never tried with the shop keeper. He did just enough to get him to come, spitting it out into a sink on his way out of the shop because he didn’t want a single piece of that man inside him.

 

Dallon used to cry when he paid rent but he hadn’t in at least a year. He resigned himself to keeping his tears for his pillow. He held onto hope that he’d get out of Skid Row, that he’d find a way, someone, willing to help.

 

He left the shop and walked down to the only bar in town. He used to sneak in but everyone knew Dallon by that point. He had a small pack of index cards that he kept in his wallet. All of them read the same two words. 

 

_ Blowjob Extraordinaire _

 

And extraordinaire he was. He’d started practicing too young when rent started being due. He thought that if it could pay rent, why couldn’t it fill his pockets too? That was why  he snuck into the bar. Handing out his faux business cards to lonely men who were just shameful enough to take Dallon out back and hand him fifty bucks to come in his mouth. He was allowed into the bar without sneaking when the owner became one of his best clients. 

 

Nobody in there called Dallon out about still being a minor because they knew that would be the last time they felt his mouth. God knows they weren’t getting anything from the few women still left in this town. They kept quiet cause Dallon was the only thing that replaced their hands.

 

They didn’t come to Dallon every night. He capped his business at four or five men a night. Just enough to hurt his jaw but enough money to slowly build towards his future. 

 

He figured he needed quite a bit of dough. Enough for a bus ticket, for an apartment until he could get a job, for food. He didn’t know how much any of that would be but he assumed it was a lot. He was saving up a lot.

 

“Boy,” someone yelled from the back of the bar. It was a fire exit and the sign still said ‘Alarm Will Sound’ but the man pushed it open, like every other man who used Dallon, and it never sounded. Maybe it was disabled for the prostitutes who came before Dallon.

 

No.

  
Dallon was not a prostitute. Just a blowjob extraordinaire. 

 

Dallon used to get turned on. He found out he liked it a little too much, liked when they (not the shop keeper) grabbed his hair and thrusted into his mouth. He used to get turned on by it. He used to finish up the night before he’d go into the bathroom and touch himself, finish into the toilet with a quiet moan that nobody but him could hear. He used to think it was fun.

 

Dallon couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched himself.

 

The next night, Dallon was at the bar again. Who was he kidding, he was there every night. He needed the money. He was taken out back by two men before he spotted the man who definitely, definitely stood out.

 

He had just come in the front door, walking up to the bar and setting his briefcase down on the floor in front of his stool. He ordered a drink on the menu and from the look the bartender gave, Dallon knew it was probably the most expensive thing they had. From the looks of it, this man could afford an expensive drink or three. Dallon saw money when he looked at this man. He could probably ask for a hundred for a quick blow and get it without hesitation. A man in a suit made Dallon’s pockets happy.

 

Dallon walked up to him, ignoring the calls of the other men who were expecting something. He leaned up against the bar next to the man, putting on his sweetest smile.

 

“You’re not from these parts. What brought you down to Skid Row?” He asked and the man turned his attention to Dallon.

 

“Ski- Uh, business,” he said, saying a quick thank you to the bartender as his drink was handed to him. 

 

“Can I get you something?” He asked and Dallon looked over to the bartender. 

 

“Shirley temple?”

 

The man gave him a weird look, wondering why someone would be in a bar and order a non-alcoholic drink but he didn’t comment. 

 

Meanwhile, Dallon was formulating his plan. He didn’t know how exactly he’d get it to work. Maybe pull out all his tricks to get this man to fall in lust with him and hitch a ride to a new city with promises of a life together. He’d ditch when he got there. He’d take all his money and find someplace cheap to call  home. It seemed easy and this man seemed interested. 

 

“How long are you here for?” Dallon asked, keeping the conversation rolling.

 

“Only a week,” he said and Dallon made a small sound of disapproval. 

 

“Hardly enough time to get to know you,” he joked and the man laughed.

 

“How about we start now? My names Brendon,” he said, holding his hand out. Dallon shook it, smiling at him still.

 

“Dallon.”

 

They talked until the bartender was calling last call, getting ready to close up for the night.

 

“How about we take this back to your place?” Dallon whispered into Brendon’s ear. He was surprised it didn’t take much effort. Brendon paid his tab and then grabbed Dallon by the arm, pulling him out the front door. It was a nice change of pace. They went to the nicest hotel on Skid Row. It was a place Dallon hadn’t set foot in his entire time living there. He never thought he would see it. It wasn’t as fancy as he had hoped it would be, but it would do.

 

Brendon’s room was orderly. From what Dallon could see, Brendon hadn’t unpacked and probably didn’t plan to. 

 

Suddenly, Dallon felt pressured. He knew it looked like it was going to be sex and up until that point in his life, Dallon hadn’t ever had sex. He’d only used his mouth and he was good at that. He didn’t know when or where he’d go further but he didn’t want it to be now.

 

“I haven’t,” Dallon said, the first time in forever that he’d actually blushed.

 

“That’s okay,” Brendon said, both of them awkward now that what they had both thought would happen was off the table.

 

“I could suck your dick though if you’d like?” He offered and Brendon nodded. He sat down on his bed, leaning back on his hands and smiling. He was nicer than anyone else Dallon had met. His smile seemed genuine and Dallon could already tell that Brendon was cleaner than the rest of the men he’d seen so far. 

 

Brendon seemed different.

 

But it didn’t feel different. He got down on his knees, the already there bruises aching slightly but this time his knees weren’t wet. He wasn’t kneeling uncomfortably on a rock. When he pulled Brendon’s half hard cock out, it didn’t reek of a lack of showers or whatever else was down there. He was clean. He didn’t taste bad.

 

He didn’t make Dallon gag like the rest of the men.

 

He almost enjoyed having Brendon’s dick in his mouth. As much as Dallon willed himself to get hard, it still felt the same.

 

Dallon thought that he was almost turned on when Brendon spoke.

 

“God, your mouth is made for this,” he said and Brendon didn’t know any better. He thought it was a compliment in the way of dirty talk. He thought it was okay. If Dallon was anyone else, it would have been okay.

 

Any notion of being turned on went out the window. He was as soft as butter in the hot sun. 

 

Brendon came in his mouth like all the rest. 

 

Brendon asked him to stay the night.

 

“I won’t try anything. Sorry, I just like cuddling after. Is that weird?” 

 

“No, it’s not weird,” he said, climbing into bed and stripping down to his boxers. He saw his plan formulating in front of his eyes, thinking this was perfect.

 

“Do you need me to do anything? I’ll suck you, too,” Brendon offered but Dallon shook his head.

 

“I’m good, thanks though.”

 

He realized that that was the first time anyone had offered to suck him too and he turned it down. 

 

Dallon woke up to an alarm and he shot up in bed. He looked around and realized that he hadn’t ever left. He got so caught up in Brendon that he’d forgotten to go home. He laid back down, realizing how tired he felt then.

 

“What time is it?” He asked, looking over to Brendon.

 

“Seven,” he answered, getting up and starting to get ready for work. Dallon frowned. The flower shop didn’t open until ten so he had no reason to roll out of bed for another two hours. Dallon follows after Brendon, getting up from bed to grab his clothes. He was pulling on his jeans when Brendon sat back on the bed. He was frowning slightly, staring at a spot on the floor. Dallon felt like he did something wrong. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say something after spending the night with a guy. It wasn’t like he was a client per say. Just a means of getting out of town.

 

He had his shirt on before Brendon spoke.

 

“Can I ask you something?” He started and Dallon nodded. He sat down next to Brendon.

 

“Sure,” he mumbled, thinking that maybe he really didn’t want to answer this question but he stayed anyway.

 

“Why were you at the bar last night if you weren’t drinking?” He asked and Dallon hadn’t expected that question but he thought it was fair.

 

“I’m not old enough,”

 

Brendon visibly leaned away from Dallon. The look in his eyes was fright. Dallon understood that, too. It sounded bad.

 

“H-how old?” Brendon asked, swallowing and looking Dallon up and down, trying to figure out how he could have missed someone being underage.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m twenty. I just can’t drink,” he said, laughing quietly. He knew the next question and so he stood up, gathering the last of his things. 

 

“How did you get in? And again, why?” Brendon asked. Dallon didn’t want to answer. How is he supposed to tell someone that he’s prostituting his mouth for money? That he goes to sleep with a sore job but a pocket full of money? It’s not a conversation that ends well and he would rather avoid it.

 

“Gotta do what you gotta do,” Dallon said, walking out the door. He could hear Brendon calling after him, trying to get him to clarify but Dallon wasn’t stopping and he did not want to explain.

 

Dallon wasn’t sure if he’d see Brendon that night at the bar. He almost expected to, for some reason. They didn’t exchange contact information, not that Dallon even owned a phone. All he had was the flower shop and he definitely didn’t hand that number out. But he assumed that if Brendon wanted to see him, he’d show up at the bar. 

 

But when Dallon walked inside, the fancy man in the suit wasn’t there. It was the usuals who eyed him, who beckoned him with a gross finger, who’s jeans were too tight because their cock was hard, waiting for him. They would lay the fifty dollars out on the table so Dallon could see it and then slip it back into their pocket until Dallon had got them off. It was the usual. Brendon was nowhere in sight. 

 

Such was business though. He had thought his plan would work but once Brendon starts asking question, the facade of Dallon falls apart. He becomes the broken and sad little boy that he has always been. There was no swagger to him. Just enough swagger to get their cock hard and money in Dallon’s hand. The rest of him was nothing.

 

So Dallon, like usual, grabbed a man and pulled him towards the back. He didn’t notice the front door of the bar closing as he slipped out the back door.

 

It never occurred to him as he dropped to his knees, as he came face to face with a hard cock that had a smell. He was repulsed like usual, slightly desensitized. The old Dallon might have gagged but the current Dallon took it into his mouth, kept going until it hit the back of his throat. Dallon rarely tried anymore. The last time he really put effort into a blowjob in the last year was Brendon. He let the man do the work, let the man get his orgasm. Dallon was now just a warm mouth and come disposal. But they paid him and Dallon took their money gladly. 

 

He swallowed the come, stood up and wiped his mouth. He walked inside, the man following behind him. Dallon looked up to the bar and saw Brendon sitting there, staring at him. Brendon looked confused but Dallon tore his eyes away from him when the man slapped his ass to get Dallon’s attention.

 

“Here you go, slut,” the man said, handing Dallon the fifty dollars. Dallon tried to be subtle, not wanting Brendon to know. How could he explain? But subtlety was gone as Dallon slipped the money into his back pocket. He knew that Brendon had saw it all as he walked over to the bar.

 

“Lets go,” Brendon said, grabbing Dallon by the wrist. His words didn’t seem friendly and Dallon knew what was happening. It had happened to him before. This was his one shot out of Skid Row and he could see it going down the drain as they stepped into Brendon’s hotel. 

 

Brendon wasted no time as they stepped into his room and the door closed.

 

“What was that?” He asked, obviously wanting an understanding of what Dallon was doing. Dallon didn’t want to lay it out on the table. He felt ashamed for the first time in a long time.

 

“Gotta do what you gotta do,” he repeated, laughing it off. He stepped forward, grabbing at Brendon’s belt, trying to undo it but he didn’t get very far. Brendon slapped his hands away.

 

“This is serious,” Brendon said, his face obviously annoyed. Dallon rolled his eyes.

 

“I am taking this very seriously, i can assure you,” Dallon said, moving down to his knees, fingers tracing over where he knew Brendon’s cock was in his pants. 

 

They went back and forth, Brendon slapping Dallon’s hand away before he’d had enough.

 

“Dallon!” Brendon yelled, snapping Dallon out of it. Dallon stood up, eyes moving from Brendon’s face down to the floor. He felt like he was a child again, getting scolded. “I’m sorry for raising my voice, I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Brendon started and Dallon nodded at the apology, “Can you please just be honest with me? I won’t be mad, I just want the truth.”

 

Dallon was quiet for a minute before he sat down on the bed. He was trying to figure out what he should tell Brendon, what he should omit. Where he should even start. 

 

He decided not to omit anything.

 

“My parents died when I was young. A drunk driver, I think. I was put into foster care and that’s how I ended up here. I’ve lived with the owner of the flower shop most of my life. He was great for awhile. He was a good father but his wife left him when I was like ten? They had been having issues and she took basically everything from him. After that, he was horrible. He, uh-” Dallon paused, hanging his head. Brendon had sat down next to him and he reached out then, touching Dallon’s thigh gently. Dallon realized it was the first time he’d been touched in as long as he could remember that wasn’t sexual.

 

“He got abusive. He hurt me. When I was seventeen he was mad and told me if I wanted to continue living there, I had to do my part. I had already been working in the shop but he-” Dallon stopped again but this time he was crying. “He asked for rent. Not money, just-” He couldn’t spell it out for Brendon.

 

“What you did for me yesterday?” He asked and Dallon nodded, “Nothing more?” He clarified and Dallon let out a humorless laugh.

 

“Thank God, no,” he said but Brendon didn’t seem to find that funny. 

 

“How does this explain what happened at the bar? Like I’m sorry that your life is shit but, why would you do that to yourself?” He asked and Dallon thought that it was sweet that Brendon thought his worth was more than a blowjob whore.

 

“I want out. I don’t have any money. I never earn anything at the shop. He says that it almost pays for the space my bed takes up. So when he started making me pay rent, I started getting others to pay me for that. I’m good at it. They need a mouth since they can’t get anyone else and they’re willing to pay me. I’ve been saving up until I know I have enough to make it somewhere else. I want out of Skid Row.”

 

Brendon didn’t say anything. He stayed silent even when Dallon prompted an answer from him.

 

“I should go. He wasn’t happy with me being gone until morning,” Dallon said, standing up to leave. Brendon still didn’t say anything, didn’t call after him like he had that morning.

 

Dallon knew that it was over.

 

Dallon knew that it was over and that his only way out was money.

 

He walked into the bar the next day, seeing his usuals sitting at tables, grinning at him like they knew they’d get his mouth for the night. Dallon looked to the bar and saw Brendon, a sight he hadn’t anticipated. Brendon was looking back at him, no smile, no grin. It was better than nothing.

 

Dallon walked up to him slowly, unsure of what would happen. He didn’t know if he’d get a lecture, if Brendon would take him out back like everyone else. 

 

“Let’s go back to my hotel,” he said and Dallon nodded. He didn’t know if he’d get paid. He didn’t the first night but it was still better than the rest. One night wouldn’t stop him from leaving. It might put him back a day or two but he didn’t care. At least Brendon didn’t smell bad. At least when Dallon went home, he didn’t have to brush his teeth five times to feel clean again.

 

Dallon didn’t have time to even drop to his knees before Brendon spoke.

 

“I don’t want you to do anything. I wanted to lay in bed and watch a movie with you, is that okay?” He asked and Dallon wanted to know why him but he didn’t ask. If it meant his plan was still in play then he’d do it. 

 

Brendon put in The Nightmare Before Christmas before laying down, opening his arms for Dallon. He raised an eyebrow when Dallon didn’t move.

 

“What? Never been cuddled before?” He asked and Dallon shook his head.

 

“No, actually,” Dallon mumbled, scooting over hesitantly when Brendon patted the space next to him.

 

He was stiff as he laid next to Brendon, not sure what he was supposed to be doing when he laid next to Brendon. There were arms around him but they weren’t exploring, weren’t demanding anything and it was so new to Dallon.

 

“Why are we watching a Christmas movie? It’s April,” Dallon said, scooting a little closer to Brendon. He didn’t know when but he decided that Brendon felt safe, Brendon felt like relaxation. He didn’t feel like work. Dallon didn’t want to admit it to himself but it was slowly dawning on him.

 

“Christmas movie? This movie is perfect year round,” Brendon scoffed, sounding offended that Dallon would limit it to one month a year. 

 

It was halfway through the movie when Dallon finally relaxed. He curled into Brendon, grabbed his shirt and rested against him. He had never been cuddled before but he was pretty sure that Brendon was the best cuddler around. 

 

It was halfway through the movie when Dallon stopped thinking about the plan. He was thinking about Brendon. He wanted to go with Brendon but he wanted to stay. He didn’t want to ditch Brendon once he got somewhere new, he wanted to stay. He wanted to cuddle more.

 

The movie ended and Brendon didn’t move. He stayed there holding Dallon and it was odd to Dallon. He thought that the end of the movie would be the end of whatever they were doing. Surely it was like anything else he did? Once it was over, it was over. He went home and wasn’t seen again until there was more money and another hard cock.

 

But Brendon was different.

 

Brendon kissed his forehead and whispered in his ear.

 

“I hope you know that while it was a little shocking, I don’t think differently of you. I want to get to know you. I think you’re sweet and I’m really sorry that things have turned out this way for you. I’m really sorry if you thought I was mad,” he said and Dallon thought that he might cry. He nodded his head, turning into Brendon and holding onto him. He didn’t know much about cuddling but he thought that it was nice. 

 

He fell asleep like that, listening to Brendon’s whispers that complimented, told him how sweet he was, how kind. How he deserved better. Dallon had never been around someone like this. 

 

He forgot about his plan. He wanted to be with Brendon. 

 

Dallon went to the bar like usual but he didn’t stay long. Brendon was sitting at the bar like usual but he didn’t stay long. As soon as they made eye contact, Dallon left the bar, followed closely behind Brendon. They went to his hotel and for once, Dallon didn’t feel bad. He walked into Brendon’s hotel and felt comforted. He felt safe.

 

“A movie? No blowjob?” He asked, wondering what Brendon was going to do for that night. Brendon stood in the doorway, thinking for a moment.

 

“Nobody ever gets you off, right?” He asked and Dallon almost choked. He shook his head when he regained his composure.

 

“No. I used to do it myself but after awhile, it stopped turning me on. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been turned on,” he said, looking down at his feet. He knew that it was unusual. He was in his prime. Shouldn’t he be out enjoying sex with people? Maybe a boyfriend? The thought seemed so far fetched to him.

 

“Could I try?” Brendon asked. Dallon didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to say hell yeah, wanted to lay down on the bed and let Brendon do as he pleased but the idea didn’t appeal to him anymore. He didn’t think about it and feel any sort of emotion. He shrugged.

 

“If you want.”

 

“Do you want it?” He asked and Dallon thought for a moment. He didn’t know if he wanted it anymore. But he remembered that Brendon was different, that nobody else in his entire life had offered to get him off, that Brendon wanted to do it because he wanted Dallon to feel the same thing that Dallon had made so many others feel. 

 

“Yeah,” he said, still unsure if he’d enjoy it. He wanted to try.

 

Brendon pushed him gently to the bed, told him what to do. It was odd to be on the receiving end but it was kind of nice. There was no pressure for him to do anything. Nobody was shoving their cock in his face, no demands. He was just supposed to sit there and enjoy himself.

 

But Dallon felt broken. He had Brendon on his knees in front of him, he had Brendon touching him, his mouth on his cock. Dallon knew that Brendon was good, the same tricks that he always did to others. He looked down and Brendon was so damn attractive to him. He seemed happy to try and get Dallon off. But when he looked down, it was easy to see that his cock was limp, that for as hard as Brendon was trying, it was useless. 

 

He tried to stay calm, tried to focus on Brendon, on feeling good. He really tried to enjoy it but he didn’t. He couldn’t get turned on and he felt completely broken.

 

As hard as Dallon tried, he couldn’t stop the tears that formed. 

 

Brendon pulled away and looked up at Dallon, not missing how Dallon tried to wipe away the tears or how he covered his limp cock that was laying in his lap. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Dallon whined, wishing he could hide from Brendon and from everyone else.

 

“Not working?” Brendon asked, sighing softly. It didn’t come out as angry or disappointed. He felt bad and so did Dallon. They were quiet for a long time before Brendon fixed Dallon’s pants and stood up.

 

“Want me to go?” Dallon asked, his voice small and his frame small. Brendon looked at him and shook his head.

 

“No, of course not. How about I put on something and we cuddle?” He asked and it got a small smile out of Dallon.

 

“You aren’t mad at me?” He asked for clarification and Brendon shook his head again.

 

“No, I’m not.”

 

True to his word, the television was on but neither of them were paying attention. Dallon had his first kiss that night. It was soft, sweet. Brendon’s lips didn’t ask for anything besides Dallon being there. They were a source of comfort, just the same as Brendon’s arms. 

 

Dallon fell asleep in Brendon’s arms again and even if what Brendon tried hadn’t worked, it didn’t end up ruining his night. He fell asleep content and maybe even happy.

 

It became an unspoken thing to meet at the bar but never stay. They were back at the hotel and Dallon stood by the bed. He still remembered the night before, remembered how badly he wanted it to work.

 

“Can we try again?” Dallon asked, sitting down in the same spot. Brendon looked at him with eyebrows raised.

 

“You want to?” He asked and Dallon nodded, “Sure.”

 

Brendon started with a kiss, pushing Dallon into the bed. It felt different than the kisses last night. They wanted something from Dallon but they didn’t ask him to do anything. They just wanted him to feel good. Dallon barely noticed the wandering hands that touched, that pleaded with him. He was too distracted by Brendon’s lips to think much more about them.

 

But that was what Brendon wanted from him. He wanted Dallon to relax, to stop thinking. He wanted Dallon to go back to just enjoying things, to stop thinking about what to do, what he should be doing, what he’s done before. He wanted Dallon’s body to just roll with it without an interfering brain. 

 

Dallon was so focused on Brendon on top of him, gentle and sweet as he always was. It took Brendon a few minutes but it worked. Dallon pulled away, gasping quietly into the air, eyes wide as he looked up at Brendon.

 

“Fuck,” he said softly, looking down to where Brendon had his cock in his hand, stoking Dallon slowly. He was hard and it was unusual of a feeling to him then but he couldn’t deny that Brendon’s hand felt good.

 

“Alright?” Brendon asked, his hand slow but insisting. 

 

“Yeah, holy shit. That feels great,” Dallon all but moaned. He closed his eyes as Brendon moved, sighed when he felt Brendon’s warm mouth on his cock. 

 

It felt different than anything Dallon had done before. It was still soft and sweet but oh so good. Dallon forgot about all the times he couldn’t get himself hard, forgot about the night before when he got caught up in his own thoughts and sabotaged himself.

 

Dallon got swept up in the feeling of Brendon’s mouth, in how good it felt. 

 

If it was any other time, he might have felt ashamed at how quick he was to come. He might have given Brendon more of a warning rather than just a strangled moan that he had no control over but it was there and he was panting into the air, his hand fisted in Brendon’s hair. 

 

He hadn’t felt an orgasm in years, hadn’t felt the senseless wash of happiness and ease that came after it. He felt sated, even happy. 

 

Dallon was the one to open his arms, already laid up in bed and wanting Brendon to cuddle with him. Brendon obliged, laying down next to him but it seemed that they’d switched places. Brendon felt stiff. He didn’t rub Dallon’s back, didn’t kiss his forehead. He didn’t kiss Dallon again. It worried Dallon, pulling him out of his feel good mood all too fast. Dallon didn’t want to ask what was wrong. He didn’t even need to ask.

 

“You know I leave tomorrow, right?” Brendon asked, sighing and squeezing Dallon gently when Dallon tried to pull away. Dallon waited, hoping for a follow up question, he wanted to go with Brendon. He wanted out, he wanted to be with Brendon. He wanted to follow the comfort that he’d felt the last two nights and he wanted to keep it. 

 

“You didn’t tell me about that,” Dallon mumbled, both of them falling into uncomfortable silence. Brendon pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to Dallon. It wasn’t something Dallon had dealt with before even though he knew that Brendon was upset. He had no idea what to do so he stayed quiet. He sat up, not reaching out to touch Brendon or get his attention for fear of the night turning south. He knew it was. He felt the tension in the air, knew that his post-orgasm happiness couldn’t last much longer.

 

“You didn’t ask me for money,” Brendon said, no question at the end of it. The statement startled Dallon.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Why didn’t you ask me for money that first night?” Brendon asked, finally giving Dallon a question to answer. It was the one question that Dallon really didn’t want to answer.

 

“Can we not talk about this right now? I just want to cuddle,” Dallon said, desperately grasping at the last strands of happiness in the room. Brendon turned around then, no smile on his face and sadness in his own eyes. The strands of happiness disappeared in that moment.

 

“No. I want an answer from you.”

 

“I don’t want to answer that,” Dallon admitted, looking down at the sheets he was sitting on. Brendon didn’t move, didn’t respond. It was almost worse than anger. 

 

They sat that like that for a few minutes more. It seemed that Brendon wasn’t moving until he got an answer from Dallon and eventually it broke Dallon.

 

“I was using you. I knew you weren’t from around here, I knew you weren’t staying. I thought that if I could make you like me, I could get you to take me with you. I wanted you to take me out of Skid Row and then I was going to leave and find my own way in whatever city I landed in,” he admitted, cringing when he heard how shitty it sounded. Brendon scoffed, turning away from Dallon.

 

“I swear, that’s not the case anymore! You were so nice when we were watching that movie. I realized that you weren’t like anyone else that I had done things with. You actually cared about me. Fuck, Brendon, I like you. You actually care about me, you want me to be happy. I know it was wrong and I’m sorry but I gave that idea up. I want to go with you but I want to stay with you. I don’t want to leave you,” he tried to explain but he could see from the tension in Brendon’s shoulders that it didn’t matter, the damage was done.

 

“I like you,” Dallon said after the silence stretched on for too long. He reached out to touch Brendon’s shoulders and watched as Brendon flinched away from his touch. Brendon stood up, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“I think it’s time for you to go,” he said and the statement was flat. There was no anger but no emotion felt worse. Dallon didn’t even try to fight it.

 

He left the hotel with his head hung, tail between his legs as he walked past the bar, not even bothering to go inside and earn money. He walked back to the flower shop, passed the sleeping shop owner who smelled, who hadn’t showered. He looked at the man who any day might ask him for rent, might expect Dallon on his knees, sucking him off for his single bed and nothing else. 

 

Dallon cried himself to sleep.

 

He woke up feeling like he had a heavy rock in his stomach. He wanted to stay in bed and never leave but he knew better. He knew the shop owner would come and wake him up, yell at him to get busy. He knew that it wouldn’t end well for him.

 

Dallon dragged himself out of bed, his movements slow. He shuffled out into the shop, putting on his work apron and grabbing a broom. Customers came in so rarely anymore. Skid Row wasn’t the romantic city, men didn’t buy their wives flowers. Some women were lucky if their husbands bought them dinner. 

 

The bell on the door chiming caught Dallon’s attention, turning around to find Brendon standing in the door of the shop. He wasn’t sure why Brendon was here. He hadn’t come in before this but he couldn’t say he was disappointed. In fact, he was relieved. Brendon being here had to mean that he was at least somewhat forgiven. 

 

“I need to buy a bouquet of flowers to take back home to this amazing person,” Brendon said to Dallon. The shop owner was in the room but even then, Brendon didn’t try to subtly say anything. He didn’t hint, didn’t give Dallon a look like he wanted to say something more. The rock in Dallon’s stomach grew. 

 

He tried to smile and be polite.

 

“Roses are usually the most romantic,” he said, doing his job and nothing but that. He’d remember this moment for that night when he was on his knees to try and make money, when he cried himself to sleep. He’d remember that Brendon bought flowers for someone else, that the idea of Dallon had already left his mind. 

 

“Roses are good,” he said, following Dallon over to where the already made bouquets were sitting in buckets with water. 

 

They didn’t talk much besides Dallon asking for money, asking if Brendon wanted them wrapped. The same thing he said to anyone else who came into the shop.

 

And then he watched Brendon leave. He knew that after tonight, Brendon would leave Skid Row, just like Dallon had wanted to do himself. Dallon would know that he was selfish in trying to use Brendon, that if he hadn’t been selfish from the beginning then maybe, just maybe, he could have left because Brendon was different. Brendon wanted more from him that a blowjob in a dark alley. He wanted to cuddle, to kiss. He didn’t pressure anything more, didn’t even try when Dallon said no. He was different and Dallon messed that up.

 

“Hm,” the shop owner mumbled before walking off into the back. 

 

Dallon was grateful for the time alone where he didn’t have to pretend like he wasn’t choking on his own air because someone else was watching. He sat down behind the broken cash register and hung his head.

 

It wasn’t even a minute later before the bell on the door chimed again and Dallon looked up, plastering on a polite smile only to see Brendon in the shop again, holding the flowers out to Dallon.

 

“Is something wrong with them?” He asked, stepping around the counter towards Brendon.    
  
“No, they’re for you,” he said and Dallon’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

 

“What? I thought they were for someone back home,” Dallon said and Brendon shrugged.

 

“I might have fibbed. Plus, there was someone else in here and..” Brendon left off, not wanting to say what they both knew was the truth of Dallon’s situation.

 

“Oh,” was all Dallon could muster up. He took the flowers, not sure what they meant. The rock in his stomach was gone but he still didn’t know what to think.

 

“I thought about what you said. I am still annoyed about what your plan was but if you were being honest about that changing then I’ll believe you and I’ll get past that feeling,” Brendon said, putting his hands into his pockets. Dallon took a moment, smelling the flowers that he’d smelt a hundred times before. These ones were different though. They smelled sweeter now that they were for him and not just an item to be sold. They were  _ his _ .

 

“I was being honest. I’m sorry,” he said, a small smile on his lips as he met eyes with Brendon.

 

“I have to leave by nine tonight. Meet me at the bar. I want you to come with me. Get away from your life here and start something new with me. I know it’s quick but I think you’re worth it. I think you’re great. I want you to come with me,” Brendon said and Dallon didn’t know what to say for a long time. 

 

He stood there dumbfounded because he had dreamed of this moment for years. He’d dreamed it in different contexts, formats. He’d met people who didn’t belong in Skid Row that would pop up in his dreams, asking Dallon to run away with him but this one was real. He dug his finger into a thorn just to be certain.

 

“I would love that.”

 

It was time to close the shop up, just a few minutes before he agreed to meet Brendon, to get away from the hell that he called home. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy but as usual for Skid Row, it didn’t last very long.

 

“Rent is due,” the shop owner said, walking from the back of the shop and into the front. Dallon turned around, looking at him and then at the door. He felt that rock in his stomach and reminded himself that he was good at this, he could get it done and run for the bar, run to meet Brendon and escape this hell.

 

Dallon nodded and walked into the back, hating how loud the footsteps were behind him.  

 

He got to his knees and felt a hand in his hair. It was rougher than normal and Dallon had a terrifying thought that maybe the shop owner knew. Maybe he heard Brendon offer to take him away and that this was his punishment.   
  
“Go slow,” he said as Dallon’s eyes glanced over to the clock. He didn’t have very long before Brendon had told him to meet at the bar. 

 

He closed his eyes as he opened his mouth and he hated himself as he felt the shop owners cock in his mouth. He tried his usual tricks, the hand in his hair tugging painfully against his scalp.

 

“I said, go slow,” he repeated and Dallon felt his last hopes of getting out slipping away. He knew he didn’t have enough money to leave and not be homeless, he knew that Brendon was his one and only shot of getting out sooner rather than later. He didn’t know when later would even be, didn’t know if he could keep his hopes and dreams alive that long to see later. 

 

The shop owner finished his mouth at exactly nine-twenty-eight. 

 

Dallon didn’t even brush his teeth the way he usually would. If he had any chance of getting out, he couldn’t waste the time. He ran down to the bar, out of breath as he stepped inside, looking around frantically for the one person who didn’t belong but he was gone. All Dallon saw were the usual men, motioning him over, looking down at their laps. They all knew that Brendon was gone, that the one thing Dallon’s attention had been focused on was out of the way. They could take Dallon out back now, nobody around to stop them.

 

Dallon’s hopes of getting out were crushed. He nodded to one of his regulars and walked out back, dropping to his knees like he’d done so many times and opening his mouth, waiting for all he’s known how to do.

 

It had been a few months of the same old, same old. Dallon still saved money but he wasn’t saving for anything in particular. He’d resigned himself to being a blowjob whore as soon as Brendon left. He knew Brendon wouldn’t return. Who would willingly come back to Skid Row? Much less for a blowjob whore who intended on using him.

 

Dallon had turned twenty-one since Brendon was gone, finally able to drink at the bar. Most of the money he made went into washing the taste of men off his tongue with alcohol. He spent most nights in a haze of alcohol and most mornings in pain from hangovers. It got him through the sadness of nights when he was still stuck.

 

Dallon was stumbling towards the back, one of his newer regulars following, his dick poking Dallon’s back when Dallon stopped to burp, wondering for a moment if it might change into vomit. He didn’t hear the door open, didn’t hear the way everyone turned to look at the newcomer. 

 

Dallon didn’t realize until a hand was roughly grabbing his shoulder to turn him around.

 

“‘M moving, okay?” He slurred, thinking it was the man taking him out back. It wasn’t.

 

It was a familiar face. A face he’d seen angry before at that.

 

“Brendon?” He asked, trying to get his eyes to focus.

 

There was arguing that Dallon couldn’t follow, to far gone in his drunken state. He realized that it wasn’t directed at him.

 

“Fuck you and fuck your money, he’s coming with me,” one of them said and the hand on his shoulder dragged Dallon away. 

 

It took Dallon a few moments that he wasn’t being dragged out back. He was out of the bar, stumbling down the street. He recognized the hotel but not the room. He recognized Brendon.

 

“What?” Dallon asked, his mind still struggling to keep up with the changes. He could tell that Brendon wanted to say something, maybe yell but he didn’t.

 

“Sleep it off, Dallon,” Brendon said, sighing and pushing him towards the bed. Dallon fell onto it, not moving from that spot.

 

“Okay.”

 

Dallon woke up hungover, the bed comfier than usual. He didn’t know where he was and he wanted to ask but his mouth was dry and his head hurt.

 

“Here, drink this,” someone said and Dallon got his eyes open enough to grab the glass. He drank the whole thing before sitting up, groaning when it made his headache worse. 

 

“Where am I?” He asked, not bothering to open his eyes. He didn’t want to make his headache worse. After a few minutes of silence, he cracked his eyes open to look around. They landed on Brendon, standing there with his arms crossed. He didn’t look too happy but Dallon didn’t feel great so he didn’t ask.    
  
Brendon was not who he expected to see when he woke up.

  
“You don’t remember anything, do you?” Brendon asked and Dallon shook his head.

 

“After the first couple of drinks and the you know what and then some more you know what, it kind of all goes black,” Dallon said, rubbing at his temples. He heard Brendon scoff.

  
“For the love of God, could you please take your life seriously for just once?” Brendon asked, not liking the way Dallon tried to play off how low of a point he’d gotten to. Dallon shrugged his shoulders.

 

“I am taking it seriously. I even made business cards for my career,” he mumbled and Brendon’s demeanor seemed to change.

  
“Really? Can I see?” He asked and Dallon nodded. He reached into his pocket where he had a small stack of business cards. He’d gone to get them made, even paid for them with the money he was supposed to be saving.

 

They were all white except for one line of words.

 

_ Blowjob Extraordinaire _

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dallon? You can’t for once take seriously how shitty this is? You are making a joke out of your life and making a joke out of me for the fact that I still care about you. What makes it worse is after all that happened, after the fact that you tried to use me, I still offered to take you with me. You can’t even show up to tell me no. You just don’t ever come. I missed my fucking flight because of you,” Brendon said, starting to pace around the room. Dallon knew that Brendon had thought of this conversation many times. Dallon had done the same.

 

“Are you done?” Dallon asked, raising his eyebrows. He would let Brendon get it off his chest before he explained.

 

“Yes. Actually, no, one more thing. You’re a fucking asshole.”

 

“Do you feel better?”

 

Brendon stood there for a few moments, staring at the ground.

 

“No.”

  
“Great, cause I’m about to make you feel worse.” 

 

Dallon scooted over to the edge of the bed, feeling like he might vomit. Either that or he might cry.

 

“I was going to go after I closed up shop but he, uh, he made me pay rent. I tried to finish him off as quick as I could be he got mad and made me go slow. I’m pretty sure he heard you. I’m pretty sure he knew that I was going to leave and he did everything he could to make sure I stayed.”

 

They were both silent, the only sound was Brendon moving to sit next to Dallon. Brendon visibly deflated, all of the anger leaving his body once he knew that Dallon tried, that he was stuck with the worst person in Skid Row and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

 

“I take it back, I’m the asshole,” Brendon mumbled, bumping his shoulder to Dallon’s gently. Dallon tried to chuckle but it came out flat and sad.

 

“Yeah but it’s okay. I forgive you.”

 

“What do we do now?” Brendon asked and Dallon wasn’t sure. He had nothing left for him here besides the promise of more men who wanted something from him. He didn’t want that anymore.

 

“When do you leave?”

 

“A few hours.”

 

Nobody talked for a long time, both of them sat there staring at the floor. There was so many unanswered questions in the air, so many things they wanted to say but it wasn’t the right time or the right place. Brendon broke the silence.

 

“Do you still want to come with me?” He asked and Dallon didn’t hesitate to answer.

 

“More than anything. I tried so hard to contact you but I didn’t even know your last name.”

 

“My last name is Urie,” Brendon offered and Dallon smiled and nodded.

 

“Good to know, Brendon Urie,” he joked, hoping that he wouldn’t need to remember it, that he wouldn’t need to contact Brendon and beg to be taken away.

 

“Can you leave now? Just not go back to the flower shop, get in the car with me right now and leave,” Brendon asked and Dallon frowned.

  
“But my money,” he mumbled, thinking about the wad of cash he’d hidden in the ceiling.

 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll help you get a job and you can stay with me. I won’t make you pay rent,” and it was meant to be a joke but Dallon cringed, he thought about where his life was at, that paying rent meant lowering his standards, meant getting on the floor to suck someone off who Dallon considered to be the worst person ever.

 

“Then yeah, I can go,” he said and that was it. Brendon didn’t have anything to pack, he’d done it all while Dallon was sleeping. They left the hotel and got into Brendon’s car and that was it. Dallon was leaving and it felt surreal. It felt like a dream that he’d wake up from and relive as he started his shift at the flower shop. He pinched himself and it was real. It was as real as when Brendon first asked him to go away, when he had a drop of blood on his finger from pressing too hard against the thorn. It was real then and it was real now.

 

Brendon drove down the road, past everything Dallon had known. They passed the bar that Dallon would never step foot inside again. The men waiting for him would never know what happened to him. Dallon Weekes was just gone, never returning. Maybe one day when he was successful, when he went with Brendon, when his life was considered good he’d come back and see where everyone else's lives were at. He assumed it would be exactly the same, just a few years older. He would be the one who stood out, who didn’t belong.

  
Brendon drove down the road and passed a sign. Dallon couldn’t read what it said originally, whatever the town had been called before but someone had spray painted over it to say Skid Row. 

 

Brendon drove down the road and passed a sign.

 

_ Now leaving Skid Row _

 

Dallon reached over and took Brendon’s hand. Brendon tore his eyes away from the road for a second to smile at Dallon. 

 

Dallon closed his eyes and tried to rest, feeling his hand squeezed and it was the happiest he could ever remember feeling.

  
Dallon Weekes was finally out of Skid Row.


End file.
